


grasping at

by preromantics



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is sick. <i>Merlin would get sick two days before they are supposed to leave for a month.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	grasping at

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: 11/08/09

Merlin would get sick two days before they are supposed to leave for a month. He would, because he's inconsiderate like that, and it's obviously just to get back at Arthur for something, with this threat of him maybe not coming dangling over Arthur's head and all, now.

"You have to get better," Arthur says, trying for commanding while he sits next to Merlin's bed. Merlin truly does look pitiful.

"You've said that already," Merlin says, hoarse. "Anything else obvious you'd like to comment on? How about the dull color of my walls, or the state of my hair."

His hair is a mess, Arthur notes, hand half way reached out to brush it off Merlin's head before he freezes, realizing. Merlin's eyes have slipped shut, though, and the gesture goes unnoticed. "Don't talk," Arthur says, for lack of anything else to say. "Your voice is grating," he adds, to try not to sound too concerned.

Merlin snorts out a laugh, rolling into his pillow a little. "Sorry," he says, and even rough Arthur can hear the sarcasm laced into his voice, "I'll try to go back to ignoring you again."

Arthur sits there, watching Merlin cough and sit up to double over with the force of it in his ribs. He can't go away without Merlin for a month -- who would do things for him? Well, anyone would, probably, but no one would do them with so much protest, so many mishaps. No one would fold his clothes with a tiny grin, or pull down his bed covers and bow with a laugh like. Well, like he and Merlin were some sort of peers in their positions. Laugh like maybe he wanted to roll underneath Arthur's covers instead of turning them down as much as Arthur wanted him to.

"Do you need anything?" Merlin asks. He sounds worse, eyes watery when Arthur meets them.

"No, no," Arthur says, searching for a reason to stay in the room and failing. He can't will Merlin to get better with his mind by sitting and staring at him, anyway. He shifts for a minute before standing.

"Have a report send to me as soon as you are better," he says, clearing his throat, "or if you get worse." He frowns at that bit, and Merlin rolls his eyes.

"Yes," Merlin says, coughing before he can get the 'sire' out.

Arthur shuts his eyes tight at the door to Merlin's tiny room, hand on the doorknob. "Do you -- do you need anything, Merlin?" he asks. It's tough to get out but the words feel right, anyway.

Merlin is silent for a minute, and Arthur doesn't dare turn around to look at him. "No," Merlin says, finally, genuine and probably a bit surprised.

Arthur breathes out. "Okay," he says, opening the door, "well."

"Don't terrorize my replacement," Merlin says before Arthur is fully out the door, "he might come in my room and will me to get better with his mind, too, just to get out of working with you."

"I wasn't --" Arthur says, but he cuts himself off and grins, quick through the crack of the door. "You must have a worse fever than Gaius thought."

"Goodbye," Merlin says, sounding a bit too cheerful all of the sudden.

Arthur rolls his eyes and makes sure Merlin's door shuts hard and loud. He makes sure he doesn't let himself grin too stupidly until he's safe back in his own quarters, thinking about the month ahead and flopping down on his bead, images of Merlin's bright eyes following him into sleep.


End file.
